


Crimes and Valentines

by HollyShadow88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Museums, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyShadow88/pseuds/HollyShadow88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first Valentine's Day as a couple and John has something typical them planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimes and Valentines

**Author's Note:**

> I went to the Crime Museum Uncovered exhibit at the Museum of London and this fic was begging to happen.

When Sherlock Holmes woke up sometime after lunch had passed on the afternoon of Sunday, the fourteenth of February, it was to a bed that held one fewer body than typically required. As he snuffled his face deeper into his pillow, his arm groped out towards the opposite side, fist grasping into the cooled sheets with an irritated mumble. He rubbed his cheek into the fabric and opened a single eye, glaring across the bedroom. Finding it distinctly Johnless, he let out a deep groan and buried himself back under the covers.

“John!” he shouted, the sound lost in the bed sheets. Minutes passed without a response. Sighing the sigh of the severely tried, he shifted his face enough to free his mouth and called out again. “ **John!** ”

The sound of rustling paper and a lowered mug announced John’s arrival. “Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to wonder if we’d even have a Valentine’s Day.”

“Valentine’s Day,” Sherlock snorted, flopping himself around until he was facing the ceiling. “While Valentine himself was an exceptional human being – were you aware he is not only considered the patron saint of love, but additionally bee keepers and the plague? – the holiday itself has taken on the frivolity and mayhem of corporate force and undue pressure placed on the overly emotional masses. Why aren’t you in bed?”

John settled himself against the headboard, one hand reaching out to tangle in Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock let out a rumbling purr and buried himself back into the pillows, humming for John to continue. Chuckling in reply, John patted Sherlock’s bum before yanking all of the bedding off of him. Sherlock yelped as he curled into a tight ball, a single glaring eye staring out from above his elbow. “It’s four o’clock in the bloody afternoon, Sherlock. Get your arse out of bed or we’ll be late.”

“Is it something to do with bees?” Sherlock called as John left the room, tossing the covers into the corner farthest from the bed. The only response he received was a bark of laughter, leaving him alone and soon freezing as the winter chill crept in through the window’s drafts. Huffing out a sigh, Sherlock rose and hurried into the bathroom to shower, eventually following John out to the rest of the flat. He found him in his chair, an almost empty cup of tea at his side and his phone in his hands.

Sherlock draped himself over the back of the chair, his head falling on John’s good shoulder and his arms crossing over his front. He nuzzled into John’s neck, catching John attempting to cover his phone out of the corner of his eye. Raising an eyebrow, he set a small kiss under his jaw and nodded towards the mobile. “Last minute planning, John? For such a proclaimed romantic, I expected better from you for our first Valentine’s.”

“Just checking that everything’s sorted.” He turned to meet Sherlock’s lips in a proper kiss before standing and stretching. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to eat anything before we head out? Wouldn’t want you getting lightheaded right when things are getting interesting.”

Sherlock consented to a piece of toast and a cup of tea, John refreshing his own to join him. They made idle conversation over the table as Sherlock ate and John fiddled with his phone, swiping it on to check the screen every few minutes. Finally, the last crumb of bread was eaten and the final drop of tea was swallowed and Sherlock pulled John to his feet. John’s eyebrows rose in question as Sherlock shoved him out into the sitting room. Sherlock’s reply came in an eye roll as he twirled himself into his coat, gesturing with a raised chin for John to do the same. John chuckled and did as instructed, following Sherlock down the stairs and onto the street. Before he could raise a hand to hail a cab, one pulled up to a halt before Sherlock.

“Already ordered us a cab? I’m honoured, John.” They settled in close, John placing a hand comfortably on Sherlock’s thigh as he nodded for the cabbie to go.

“Only way I could manage all this without you figuring it out,” John replied, his shoulders remaining stiff with anticipation. “I’m surprised you haven’t worked it out yet. Unless you have?”

Sherlock shrugged and leaned into John, staring off out the window. “I assumed you would prefer I didn’t. I am attempting to humour you.”

John’s only response was to grin, allowing them both to fall into comfortable silence for the rest of the ride. After barely twenty minutes, their cab came to a halt beside a Pret, John settling the fare as Sherlock observed their surroundings. Once the cab had sped off, John came to Sherlock’s side and took his gloved hand, giving it a squeeze and grinning up at him.

“Figured it out yet, then?” he asked, watching Sherlock frown but squeeze his hand back. When he didn’t respond, John dragged him across the street and up a short escalator, eventually leading him to an open air walkway above the street. Sherlock squinted at the sign overhead, pulling John to a stop as his frown deepened.

“The Museum of London?” he asked, staring down at John with furrowed brows. “What could possibly be romantic about the Museum of London?”

“Maybe not traditionally romantic, but we aren’t exactly traditional, are we?” John’s smile grew as he tugged Sherlock along, eventually stopping him at the entrance. The normally automatic doors were closed, the café to their left dark, and only a few employees stood about preparing to close for the day. One of them spotted the pair and approached, John pulling him aside to explain. The employee’s face brightened, his eyes darting toward Sherlock with an amused grin, and he soon led them inside. Sherlock watched John rather than their surroundings, far more interested in studying him as they made their way down two sets of stairs. At the bottom, they were greeted with an older style Met car behind an empty podium. Sherlock gaped between it and John for a moment, John smirking up at him in excitement.

“The Met’s got this exhibit going on, has since October, with some of the stuff from their Crime Museum,” John explained, pulling Sherlock forward. “It’s not everything, obviously, but it’s more than the public has been allowed to see since the early 20th century. I know you’ve been pestering Greg to let you look into it practically since you started working with them, but until now only official members of the force could until this exhibit. It’s been popular as hell, practically packed to the walls every day, so I talked with Greg and he managed to pull some strings and get us in after the rest of the museum was closed. We’ve only got about two hours, but it’s all ours.”

Sherlock had approached the barrier around the car as John spoke, his head darting between looking at it and attempting to see further into the exhibit. As John came to stand at his side, he whipped around to grasp his face in his massive hands, placing a fierce kiss on his lips. When he finally pulled away, John was staring up at him, a slightly glazed expression on his face. Sherlock’s head fell forward to rest their foreheads together, his smile wide enough that John felt it against his mouth. He responded with a series of small kisses of his own before forcing himself to pull away and guide Sherlock into the exhibit.

Within seconds, Sherlock was rushing forward, plastering himself against the displays with eyes fiery with excitement. Each display came with muttered exclamations (“John, look! They’ve got Daniel Good’s Death Mask! He’s the reason the detective branch was created, useless as they are overall.” “Annie Parker, she’s the one who they arrested hundreds of times for public drunkenness. Boring, but one must admire her devotion, both to the drink and her sampler.” “Deeming…they suspected he might have been Jack the Ripper, did you know?” “Ah, Charles Peace. He was quite clever in getting into and out of homes, not to mention having quite a bit of musical ability. Shame he had to ruin it by injuring an officer.” “Look, they’ve information from the Tichborne debacle! Orton might have gotten away with it if he’d done it properly, but unfortunately he was an idiot.” “Execution ropes, excellent! Were you aware it was only removed as a means of capital punishment in the 60’s? It was an ineffective means of execution, but inexpensive and fairly easy, therefore the most popular method to punish criminals permanently.”) and John followed with an amused smile and occasional noises of interest, more focused on watching Sherlock than on the items themselves.  
They managed to make their way through the entire exhibit before their time was up, Sherlock still giddy with excitement as he babbled on while they made their way out of the museum. John thanked the security guard who saw them out before tucking one hand in his pocket and the other along the small of Sherlock’s back to guide him forward. It was only once they’d found themselves seated at a corner table of a nearby pub that Sherlock paused, his eyes enormous as he gazed across at John.

“Thank you, John,” he said seriously, reaching both of his hands across the table to snatch up one of John’s. “This was lovely. I’m afraid it wasn’t as ideal a Valentine’s date as you might hope, however.”

John’s face softened, his free hand coming to rest over Sherlock’s and rub gently against the skin. “It was my gift to you, love. The exhibit was pretty fascinating, wasn’t it? And I was happy as long as you were enjoying yourself. This day was for you, and if you liked it, I’m thrilled.”

“You’re too good to me, John Watson,” Sherlock sighed, leaning forward to place a small kiss on his lips. “What can I do to repay you?”

The grin on John’s face morphed into a smirk, his eyes darkening slightly as he followed Sherlock’s retreating mouth. “Oh, I’m sure we can figure something out.”


End file.
